Page 92 of Vow of Silence

I lift my brow, hoping to coax him into a little light elaboration.

He indulges. “I have Arseni right where I need him. I have people loyal tome. It doesn’t matter if you and Nastasya marry. It doesn’t matter if the brotherhood becomes your father’s greatest ally. It doesn’t matter because I already have everything I need to destroy you all.”

As do I, fucker.

My fuckingheart pounds heavily in my chest. Partly due to the earlier confrontation and, in part, to the third cup of espresso that I’ve had in the past hour.

“I’ve reviewed the entire document, even though the majority is the standard verbiage,” Petey states, handing the printed papers to my father. “While we were the ones to draft this, it offers Nastasya as much protection as Benito.”

“Good.” Papa glances at the pages briefly before leaning forward in his chair and passing them across the table.

I set my drink aside and take the offered document. The confession stored in my phone burns against my leg, yet I can’t jump the gun.

Not when I’m so close to perfection. To making this fucking watertight.

“I asked Petey to amend the clause regarding alimony,” Papa explains as I skim-read the sections. “Traditionally, it’s stipulated that a man will be responsible for his ex-wife’s quality of life and that of any children born during the relationship. But, as we know, there’ve been instances in the past where the ‘quality of life’ phrase has been loosely interpreted, and men have been taken advantage of by angry ex-wives.”

I nod, setting the pages down on my leg until he’s finished.

“The clause now states that you will only be responsible for Nastasya should her income drop below a certain threshold, and then, only to a level as agreed between you before the marriage.” He slides his phone from the breast pocket of his shirt and checks the screen. “You’ll find the whole agreement keeps the same theme—equality rather than reparation. It’s about ensuring you both enter the marriage as complete individuals and, should either of you choose to end it, still be independent and capable of holding your own. I don’t want misunderstandings about who maintains the power between her house and ours. It’s a fair exchange or no exchange at all.”

“That doesn’t mean you’re unable to make alterations,” Petey clarifies. “I want you both to read it thoroughly and air any concerns before setting ink to paper.”

I nod, glancing down at the simple header that spells my future.Prenuptial Agreement.I never thought I’d reach the day when I held one of these in my hands, let alone one with mine and Nastasya’s names at the top. Yet another indicator of how young and naive we were back then.

We were kids, but we were also in love.

Reality didn’t reach us.

“There was one other special request,” Papa says quietly, glancing at Petey. “I asked to include a clause that ensuresNastasya’s discretion regarding your condition. She’s not to tell anyone outside the family why you don’t speak unless it can be proven that you gave your express consent.” He sighs. “I don’t want it used against you.”

I turn my head toward the doorway and idly lift one hand to scratch behind my ear. It was predictable, but it still made me feel like an inferior off cast from the family. A reject. An embarrassment.

“Secrets are weapons in our life, my boy.” Papa tugs his phone out again with a disgruntled huff.

“What is it?” Petey asks.

Thank fuck for someone being able to say the words I can’t. Even with sign language, I’d be fucked until Papa looked my way again. I get frustrated plenty by my lack of communication. But there are certain instances like this where it drives me to the point of violence.

I want to be heard.

I want to be seen when I’m in the room.

My father rises from his seat, turning back to retrieve what was left of his drink on the table and throwing it down in one gulp. “I need to leave,” he says simply before setting the coffee cup down and heading for the exit. “Take the document to Nastasya, Benito,” he calls as he retreats. “Let me know what she thinks.”

I catch Petey’s eye and shrug.

He smirks. “Too many irons in the fire.”

I lift the pages in my hand and start to read over the clauses again, yet my mind’s elsewhere. The words go in, but nothing registers. I’m so fucking close to making Ignazio pay that I’m stuck in a never-ending adrenalin high. I exhale for a count of five and start the paragraph again.

“Take it to her,” Petey offers as he leans to his side for his leather satchel. “You two can go over it together. There’s nourgency to read it all now.” He shoves unused papers back in his bag and then sets the satchel on his lap, hands braced around the thick handle. “There’s something I think you should know.” He glances to where my father left, pressing his lips together. “The boss is no stranger to these men on the street, like the one you pulled in the other day.” He pauses, glancing across the road before adding. “I know that’s why you got us to meet here.”

I set the prenup on the table and lean both elbows atop it. My heart receives a new shot of adrenalin.Does he know it’s Ignazio?

Pietro matches my stance, leaning closer also. “He’s had Vinny work a crew on these guys for a while now, gathering intel, making connections, looking for patterns.”

I lift both hands and shake my head.What did they find?

---